


My True Love

by thestairwell



Category: Glee
Genre: Advent Calendar, Advent Calendar Drabble, Angst, Canon Compliant, Engagement, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Old Age, Poetry, Smut, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestairwell/pseuds/thestairwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mostly fluff, a smidge of angst, poetry, humour - a mix of (mostly) unrelated drabbles in the lead up to Christmas, inspired by prompts from <a href="http://klaineadvent.tumblr.com">Klaine Advent</a>.</p><p>(The whole series is rated Explicit but there's only smut in one drabble.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Artist

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from, you might have guessed, 'Twelve Days of Christmas', because I'm totally unoriginal. I'm also challenging myself for Christmas and so all my drabbles will be a maximum of 300 words. Short and sweet and more fluff than I know what to do with. I'm also challenging myself to remain 100% canon compliant! (Goodness.) (We'll see about the G rating. ;) )
> 
> And for those of you who don't celebrate Christmas, it's very unlikely any of my drabbles will actually be _about_ Christmas, so happy holidays/have a good December, and I hope you enjoy. :)
> 
> (Expect a new drabble about 11.59PM GMT every day, hahaha!)

For eight years, Blaine sings because his big brother does. He enjoys singing, for sure, but he prefers finger painting and playing the piano. Mostly because Cooper doesn’t like getting messy and he doesn’t even know which key is middle C.

*

His masterpieces stop going up on the fridge when he turns seven, and so he starts collecting them in loose leaf notebooks instead. After Cooper leaves home, he regularly arranges galleries for his parents in the dining room. They ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’, until gradually they’re too busy to even attend dinner every night.

And gradually, Blaine stops collecting his own drawings, and starts collecting pictures of attractive men in various states of undress (though never naked) and printing out positive It Gets Better stories.

*

Thanksgiving is saturated with various forms of “I bet you break all the girls’ hearts!” and “Got a girlfriend yet, eh, kid?”

Blaine’s mouth gives away nothing of his heart’s crying.

When he comes out six months later, he surprises everyone.

*

Blaine’s wrist gets broken, and he misses the piano more than he thought possible. He blasts P!nk and writes angry poetry until he starts at a zero-tolerance boarding school the next fall.

The poetry is terrible.

*

At Dalton, Blaine rediscovers music. It feels like freedom.

*

At Dalton, Blaine finds Kurt. It feels like being reborn.

*

Sometimes, Sam ropes Blaine into making macaroni art. Occasionally, Blaine makes scrapbooks, and occasionally, Kurt helps. Often, Blaine breathes music.

Always, Blaine tries to make Kurt smile.

*

Blaine can be anything on the stage. Loud or quiet, strong or weak, sly or charming. He gets standing ovations and star reviews. But waiting in his dressing room is a bouquet of roses, always signed, _With love_. And that is when he shines.


	2. Belong

“One day, you’ll all work for me,” Kurt tells his bullies, and they throw him in the dumpster.

“Instead of posting an anonymous comment online, say what you have to say to me to my face,” he snaps, and then a bully throws a cherry slushy on him and Jacob ben Israel catches it on camera.

Finn smiles at him, and seven months later Finn smashes up his room. But no one’s perfect.

Kurt feels like a seahorse in a goldfish pond. Different, helpless to being pushed around, stagnant in the current-less water, untouched.

*

The second time around, the joining of two families actually works out. His home remains the oasis in the harsh, endless outside world.

*

Blaine’s hand is warm and smooth and strong; his voice is cashmere and comfort; his eyes are soft, and as bright as the North star on an empty ocean. His lips are the cool, sweet spring after a lifetime of aridity, and Kurt drinks deep.

*

When he moves to New York, everything falls into place.

Almost.

*

Blaine steps through the metal door, smile so wide that Kurt can barely even see his eyes shining. His hair is coming loose and sticking to his forehead and curling on top, sweaty from moving so many boxes. Rachel and Santana are out shopping for the welcome party.

Kurt curls his fingers around Blaine’s, pulls him close, and kisses him.


	3. Consume

They call New York the Big Apple.

Kurt gets a taste of it when he visits during his junior year. It’s bright and free and beautiful, and everything he’s ever imagined and more.

*

They break out the hotel room and go exploring. At first, they stick together as a group, but as the day runs its course they split off into couples and triples because outside of Central Park, there is very little they can all agree on seeing.

Kurt goes with Tina and a complacent Mike to the Garment District, and walks away rolling his eyes when they start making out in the middle of the street.

He calls Blaine.

“Has the city kidnapped you yet?” his boyfriend teases.

“Absolutely.” Kurt’s eyes roam the facades and faces around him, drinking in every intricate detail. Everything sparkles.

“I’m coming back here one day,” he confides in a low voice. “I don’t care how long it takes me.”

“I know,” Blaine says. “Can I come, too?”

Kurt’s breath catches, he loves this boy so much and he always will, and he can’t wait to tell him.

“I’m sure I can find a big enough suitcase,” he says, and drinks in Blaine’s laugh as the city bustles around him.

*

Atop the Empire State Building, Kurt has his fiancé on one side and the polluted sky on the other. The city is lit up, the beacon that beckoned to Kurt for his entire life, so far below them that Kurt could step out and become a star himself.

“I can see our house from here,” Blaine murmurs against his shoulder, and Kurt laughs.

“I can see my office from here,” he corrects, “our house is in Brooklyn.”

*

They call New York the Big Apple. It takes in Kurt instead.


	4. Dirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know - they're 300 words a day, how could I possibly have fallen behind and then not done anything for 5 months? Well, most of them were written on time... I'm just a lazy wanker. But I've been reminded (and guilted) into finally publishing the rest so here we go! All at once! Please accept my sincerest apologies.

Kurt’s lips are soft, and tacky from the honey sandwiches. He smells of sunscreen, and Blaine’s nose slides across his cheek a little from how recently Kurt applied it. The air is hot and almost oppressive around them, but the trees shade them from the too bright sun. Still, Blaine can feel it lingering in Kurt’s skin, so much of him bare in the lazy summer afternoon.

Their lips part with a light, wet smack, and the rest of the world comes back, though it still seems so far away. They are slightly hidden from the rest of the park-goers where they are, and where the trees are less dense and the sun shines more strongly, families play and teenagers sunbathe. They’re not more than ten feet away, but they may as well be a different galaxy for all Blaine cares.

Blaine leans in to kiss Kurt again. He sighs against Kurt’s lips and allows himself to drift. If there were a wind, Blaine feels like he would float away, and it’s only the weight of Kurt’s chest pressing against him that keeps him grounded.

Then Kurt pulls away completely and makes a noise of disgruntlement, and Blaine opens his eyes.

“Gross,” he says, nose wrinkling, and Blaine sees that his hand is covered in dirt and tiny stones and twigs. Blaine turns his head and begins to giggle helplessly when he realises most of the blanket has rucked up against the picnic blanket.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Kurt says, “it’s gonna be all over your back.”

“You can brush me off,” Blaine grins, trying not to blush too hard because his butt’s on the dirt too.

Kurt raises an eyebrow, and Blaine gently takes his hand and wipes it clean.

 


	5. Echo

_I love you too._

Blaine grins up at his ceiling, too happy to even think about sleeping. Bliss fills his every cell and, instead of weighing him down, it makes him feel like he could just float up into space. He’s half surprised he isn’t just tangled up in his ceiling fan.

_I love you too._

He hadn’t said it for Kurt to say it back – he’d just said it because he couldn’t not, not when Kurt was so happy about New York despite losing Nationals. The words had lit up in his mind (as they had so many times over the months they’d known each other and Blaine couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured himself out sooner) and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from saying them this time. And Kurt had said them back.

_I love you too._

Blaine presses a pillow over his face and muffles his exclamation of ecstasy, something between a squeal and a shout, and he wiggles against his mattress.

_I love you too. I love you too. I love you too._

One day, Blaine’s gonna marry that boy.


	6. Falter

Burt moves away from the cacophony of the main hall, towards the cacophony of the back rooms where the wedding party is getting ready. When Santana catches his eye, she rolls her own and storms over.

“You deal with him,” she says, voice tight like she’s about to start shouting about Lima Heights Adjacent. “I am up to _here_ with his dog whistle pitch.”

“He’s having second thoughts?” Burt asks, surprised.

“No offence, Mr. H, but that’s a really dumb question.”

Burt laughs, and ignores the blossom of relief at the base of his heart. He nods and lets her continue onto her new destination. She’s already shouting by the time she reaches the florist.

It doesn’t take him long to reach Kurt’s room – it’s mere yards away, but for some reason each step feels an age to Burt, and the door seems to open of it’s own volition.

Kurt doesn’t notice him, at first. He’s frantically pinching and pulling alternately at Rachel’s dress and his own suit, rearranging his tie and his pocket square and his socks and the placement of whatever’s in Rachel’s hair. Burt has a flash of Kurt fussing over Burt and Carole at their wedding, and then younger, fussing over his own and his dolls’ outfits for every single one of their weddings.

And then Kurt is twenty-one again – and, god, he’s twenty-one, and he’s getting married to the love of his life. Burt’s heart jumps, and he can’t quite step over the threshold. And then Kurt sees him, and exclaims, “Dad!” in such a panicked tone and Burt knows – Kurt will always need him.

Burt smiles, steps forward, and starts mentally drafting advice for his son.


	7. Gift

Even before they start dating, Blaine regularly bestows upon Kurt small trinkets. His class photo, coffees, and slices of cheesecake graduate to quirky brooches, avant-garde ornaments for Kurt’s bedroom, and origami designs (Kurt keeps the lotus in an empty tea-light holder next to his creams, delights in how Blaine lights up every time he sees it, and doesn’t tell him the rest are in an old toolbox under his bed).

After they start dating, the gifts become more frequent, more extravagant, and, occasionally, more expensive – there’s a genuine Vivienne Westwood scarf in his closet that Kurt knows took Blaine all summer to save up for, and he’ll never dare wear it to school; there’s the gorgeous bubblegum wrapper ring that Kurt cares for more than every item in the Elizabeth Taylor auction combined; there’s the spa day for two in Columbus that Blaine ends up enjoying as well, but only after Kurt had refused to take anyone else.

After they get engaged, Blaine buys him (and himself and Rachel and Santana, technically, but he’s still a recipient so he’s counting it) a goddamn upright piano.

Kurt doesn’t even try to keep up, doesn’t keep score, but he decreases his clothing and coffee budgets so he’ll always be able to buy the cord necklace or the glass elephant or the bow tie that makes him think of Blaine, and in the end, as cheesy as it is, Blaine’s bashful, beautiful smile is the best gift of all.

(“Well, almost,” he jokes, holding up his left hand, showing off his brand new ring, and the guests laugh and so does his brand new husband, and his dad stands and pulls them both into a hug.)

 


	8. Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahoy! Fortunately, I couldn't just leave it, so the story in this drabble is continued in 'stitch' and 'us'. (Seriously, Kurt and Blaine are not nice to each other in this one. Hannah's only comment on this one was: you went there.)

Blaine isn’t entirely sure how they got from point A to point B. If he’s being perfectly honest, he isn’t even sure how they got to point A, either. Both he and Kurt have been chaotically busy before and it’s never ended like this. But then again, they’ve never been so busy at the same time.

All he knows is this: he asked Kurt if he could soak the dishes in the sink before everything crusts, Kurt responded with a bitchy reminder about how to work the washing machine without ruining cashmere, and ten minutes later they’re screaming at each other from opposite sides of their tiny kitchen, faces red, veins pulsing, too blind to see anything but their own fury.

Kurt follows him into the hall and, as Blaine shoves on the first pair of shoes he sees, fires at him, “Can’t you ever face anything head on? Fuck, why don’t you fuck another guy while you’re at it – go the whole damn hog!”

Blaine sees the moment Kurt realises what he said but – god, he just doesn’t care. Kurt’s words sliced right through him, and he’s honestly surprised he isn’t bleeding out onto the carpet.

He wrenches open the front door and spits back, “At least I wouldn’t sacrifice my own father for some stupid DVDs.”

With that, he slams the door behind him and takes off for the stairs. But he isn’t fast enough to miss seeing Kurt’s expression shatter.

 


	9. Ice

Blaine receives a text from Kurt. It reads: _SOS come over IMMEDIATELY!!!_ And, although he is not particularly worried because Kurt says the same thing when he’s having a meltdown over _Pip Pip Hooray!_ , he does make his way to the Hummel’s posthaste. Even if he weren’t completely gone over Kurt (and it thrills him no end both that he can say it and that Kurt says it back), it’s still part of being a boyfriend that he rushes over at every perceived emergency.

This emergency, he finds out, is a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream melting in the middle of the kitchen table.

“What’s going on?” he asks after he and Kurt kiss in greeting.

“The freezer broke,” Kurt says. “Finn’s already claimed the neapolitan and Carole and Dad have taken what was left of the strawberry, but I’m the only one who likes Chocolate Fudge Brownie and there’s no way I can eat it all on my own.”

Blaine grins and holds Kurt’s hand. “Good thing Chocolate Fudge is my favourite, then.”

Kurt’s face lights up. “I love you.”

Blaine’s sure he goes a little moony-eyes as he says back, “I love you, too,” and they stand there staring at each other until Kurt remembers about the ice cream.

When Blaine eyes the _full_ tub – because favourite flavour or not, half a tub of ice cream is pretty sickening – Kurt promises, “I’ll make a fruit salad and cheese platter later.”

“You’re amazing,” Blaine sighs as he feeds Kurt a spoon – and then the room suddenly gets very, very hot, and Blaine avoids Kurt’s eyes as he shovels ice cream down his throat as fast as brain freeze will allow.


	10. Jigsaw/Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest drabble ever goes to...

No one has ever known Kurt like Blaine does. Even from the moment they met, when Blaine held his hand and Kurt was the most fashionable spy Dalton had ever seen. They align, filling in the other's missing space, and where they differ is an A, B, C# playing together, and their life is a symphony in A major.

 


	11. Loft

Kurt spends his first night in New York alone. The hotel walls surrounding him seem to both mute and magnify the noise from the street, and it’s only Blaine’s sleep-steady breathing through the phone that stops him from getting on the first flight back to Ohio.

*

They had plans upon plans for Blaine’s first day as a New Yorker, but by the time they get away from Rachel, Santana, Sam, Artie, Elliot and Dani, and fallen into bed, it’s been hours of non-stop celebration and talking and only a little tipsy groping.

On the other side of the curtain, Santana and Elliot try to keep the party going, but it sounds like everyone is beginning to crash. On this side, Kurt and Blaine smile at each other, bright and exhausted, and they barely manage to twine themselves together before they’re fast asleep.

 


	12. Message

I love you. God, Kurt, I just – we’re getting _married_ today. The next time I see you, it’s gonna be down the aisle . . .

I never thought I could miss you so much. Or be so excited. I couldn’t sleep at all last night, Sam and Cooper and Artie ended up just basically dogpiling in my bed – and I know the face you’re making, and no, it was _terrible_ and _let’s not go there_ , Cooper’s my _brother_ , Kurt, seriously—

But anyway. I’m really glad we decided we’d stick to at least this tradition. And I’m glad you haven’t let me see your suit.

God, we’re getting _married_!

But we can never spend another night apart ever again, okay? Promise me? I swear I’m going through with withdrawals— [laughs] No, I’m not gonna quote Edward Cullen at you either, you weirdo. —Kurt, I want to sleep with you for the rest of our nights. And you know what’s amazing? I _can_. Because in about six hours, we’re going to be _husbands_. You’re going to mine, I’m gonna be yours, forever . . .

[laughs, a little wet] I can’t even get through a voicemail without tearing up, god, there’s no way I’m gonna survive my vows. There’s no way I’m gonna survive _your_ vows.

[exhales, shaky]

Kurt, I. I just, love you so much. I can’t believe you fell in love with me all those years ago. I can’t believe—

I never thought I could feel so much, Kurt. I love you so much, just the words aren’t enough, being your husband isn’t enough, even being your soulmate, I.

[laughs] I love you, Kurt.

I’ll see you soon, okay? Keep an eye out – I’ll be the one in gold.

 


	13. Neon

Blaine has always known he lights up on stage. Whether acting, singing or playing an instrument, he pours himself into his performance and his soul shines through his skin.

And then he kisses Kurt.

He’s entertained thoughts of kissing since he was a child, had kissed a handful of girls and one boy before – but the latter were barely more than a rough sketch of the Sistine Chapel, and the former was just a pale likeness in a foggy mirror. Kissing girls had been awkward and silly (and, once, drunk), kissing the boy had been exciting and thrilling (and also drunk).

Kissing Kurt, he feels alive. His blood beats in a samba round his body, his nerves explode in fireworks that leave permanent marks on his heart.

Blaine lights up on stage, like flicking the switch of a spotlight. But Kurt is an electric charge and Blaine is neon, and when his lips meet Kurt’s, whether shallow peck or the beginning of something more, he glows for everyone to see.

 


	14. Overture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this is one of my favourite things I have ever written and probably ever will write.

I do not touch  
anyone.  
Not really. Nothing more than a  
pat on the back or a palm on the arm to  
get their attention and yet -  
and yet.  
And yet I took your hand and you took mine  
and our fingers entwine  
and our palms kiss  
and it feels electric and I still do not touch  
anyone  
but you.

But you, who are stronger than you know,  
you know.  
I have seen you stand  
tall,  
brave,  
defiant  
in the face of brutes and giants who would do you harm.  
I run away and possum play  
but if I could borrow your courage,  
I could be worthy  
of you,  
of your crown.

People slander; dragons plunder:  
take us far apart and  
steal our gold;  
come between our palms and fingers,  
until I can no longer touch  
anyone  
even you.  
Dragons come and steal our gold  
but they cannot steal our  
golden words  
or the courage that you lent me.

There is no difference between  
brutes or giants or dragons  
or the people who would do us harm.  
We will hold steady  
our golden words,  
our strength,  
our hands,  
whether they must hold in battle or in between each other's fingers.  
I do not touch anyone but you;  
I do not need to.

 


	15. Pulse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks, this one's rated Explicit! Warning/enticement: barebacking.

Kurt takes Blaine’s hands, holding them together as if in prayer, and asks, “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

“I’m just really excited,” he says, glancing down and licking his lips when Kurt’s (bare!) cock jerks against his thigh, “I promise.”

“Me too,” Kurt breathes out. His pupils are blown wide; Blaine can barely see the irises.

“Can I?” Blaine asks, and he slicks up Kurt’s dick, and then he gasps and moans and strains to keep still and not come as he feels Kurt slip inside him, nothing but hot skin and steel under soft flesh and wet lube, and it’s so much better than Blaine had even imagined.

“Oh, god, Blaine, you’re so—” Kurt cuts off, his body quivering with effort to be slow, and Blaine’s probably imagining it but he can feel Kurt’s pre-come helping the slide. The thought makes him moan, low and long, like he usually only does when he’s about to come, and deep inside him he can feel Kurt’s dick throb in time with the heartbeat under his hand and Blaine – giggles.

His hand flies to his mouth, and his eyes fly open, but he can’t stop himself from giggling again, even as Kurt seems to thrust forward involuntarily and the action makes him moan.

“I can feel your pulse in my ass,” he whispers, and then they’re both laughing helplessly even as they try to keep going. Blaine gasps, breathless from stimulation and laughter, and then, without warning, Kurt’s coming, and then so is Blaine before he even registers how it feels inside him.

*

After they’ve cleaned up and stopped bursting into fits of giggles, Kurt says, “We haven’t come that quickly in ages.”

Blaine nods sagely. “We should practice.”

Kurt’s jaw drops, and then he tackles Blaine back into the bed.

 


	16. Quick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the drabble for the Old Age tag.

Blaine groans in time with his bones as he lowers himself onto the seat, and wistfully remembers a time when he was able to jump up on tables as if it were nothing.

“Alright there?” comes Kurt’s amused voice, as he himself elegantly descends onto the adjacent chair.

“I’m old,” he replies balefully, accepting his drink. “Except you’re older. How are you still so . . . sprightly?”

Kurt laughs. “I told you you should’ve done yoga with me,” he teases. Blaine groans again, and then they fall silent, looking out onto the dance floor.

Their granddaughter beams from her new husband’s arms.

“It seems like yesterday that was us,” Kurt comments idly, absently, nostalgically.

Blaine looks at him, at the creases in his skin and the grey hairs and the aged features no less beautiful than the young ones he fell in love with. He remembers Kurt panicking at his first grey hair, how it took him years to stop dyeing it – not that Blaine’s one to talk: when he hit fifty, Kurt had only just managed to convince him botox wasn’t worth it.

He sets his drink down on the table and struggles back to his feet, waving off Kurt’s attempts to help.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Blaine holds out his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

Kurt beams. The years on his face seem to melt away, and with them go the years on Blaine’s bones, and it could be their children’s weddings or their own or even their first prom.

“Yes, you may,” Kurt says. He takes Blaine’s hands and they lead each other out onto the floor. The years return, but as they wrap their arms around each other, as in love as ever, Blaine barely notices.

They still have a lifetime together.

 


	17. River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for this one comes from 'Just Around the Riverbend' from _Pocahontas_.

Kurt (Blaine) steps fresh into Dalton (McKinley) three times.

One.  
He’s wearing black shorts and a red tie, and holds another boy’s hand for the first time in his life. (He’s wearing his school uniform. He defends, and is defended by, a boy he barely knows.)

Two.  
He’s wearing the real school uniform, not just a fabulous imitation. There is an animal head pinned to his blazer and a single shining light among the crowd. When he finally steps out again, it’s so much harder than he would have ever thought. (He sings to his boyfriend, and his whispered thank you drifts away with the breeze when he isn’t looking. He never wants to leave.)

Three.  
He’s wearing a blue and purple suit too fabulous for a simple plane journey, and he leaves wearing a ring. (He’s finally wearing his own clothes, neat and pressed, with confidence he didn’t know he’d ever be able to get back. And, eventually, leaving is the easiest thing in the world.)

 


	18. Stitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the continuation of 'human'! This story is completed in 'us'. :)

Kurt doesn’t see Blaine for three days; his husband sleeps on Sam’s couch and only comes home when Kurt’s at work. He knows because there are different clothes gone from the closet and drawers every day. Every article gone is another shard of his heart; every item gone is a new hope. (One of the first pieces to go was one of Kurt’s old henley shirts.)

He considers leaving a letter with an apology for Blaine to find but ends up putting them all through the shredder.

On the third day, Blaine is sitting on their couch with a duffel bag next to him. Kurt bursts into tears and begs Blaine not to leave, and even after he realises the duffel is borrowed from Sam and full of Blaine’s dirty laundry, it takes a long time for his heart to stop pounding his ribs.

“I didn’t mean anything I said,” Kurt whispers, clutching Blaine’s hands to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Blaine returns. He smiles, but it isn’t real. Kurt smiles back, but that isn’t real either.

*

They marathon _Gilmore Girls_ and early seasons of _Treme_ and _Jersey Shore_ , and try too hard to act normal.

The apartment is always perfect and spotless.

Kurt does all the laundry. The second time, Blaine helps him iron and fold and put away, and they tell their newly cleaned underwear about their days until they can bear to tell each other’s eyes.

Their busy periods die down.

They have sex at night and kiss in the morning and don’t talk about how it feels weird when they’re still weird, but each time their skin touches, it’s a little less.

Some days, they even manage to forget.

 


	19. Torch

Blaine is reading using the light of his phone when Kurt comes home, closes the door behind him, and immediately walks into the table by their door. His swears are punctuated by the sounds of keys and mail and the plastic vase hitting the floor, and Blaine calls out, “You okay, honey?”

“You planned that,” Kurt responds without heat, and Blaine grins in the dark.

“So the guy on the radio thinks the power’ll be out all night,” he says, and Kurt groans.

“It’s too cold for a power outage,” he complains.

Blaine opens the flashlight app on his phone and shines it vaguely in Kurt’s direction so his husband can pick up everything from the floor, and then he steps forward to take his hand, making sure the light catches his smile.

“I’ve made arrangements,” he says cryptically, and to Kurt’s credit, the other man only raises an eyebrow.

Then he enters the bedroom and sees Blaine’s arrangements and laughs so delightedly. Blaine’s piled all their spare blankets and pillows on their bed, arranged them into a fort, placed a few bottles of water and platters of cheese and cake on their bedside tables, and he turns his phone off completely and flicks on the actual flashlight he laid in the fort’s entrance.

“Blaine!” Kurt laughs.

“We can’t have sex yet, though,” Blaine says, laughing himself when Kurt pouts. “The fort’ll collapse! It took me almost an hour, we should at least enjoy feeding each other first.”

Even with the light shining in his eyes, Blaine sees Kurt’s pupils dilate. The man licks his lips, carefully crowds Blaine against the bed, and murmurs against his lips, “You have the best plans.”

Blaine just pulls him into a kiss, and the fort collapses above them.

 


	20. Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to the mini-story of 'human' and 'stitch'.

“What do you mean you haven’t talked yet?!”

“Ow!” Blaine rubs his arm and glares balefully at Santana, and she just snorts at him.

“Your whole communication shtick was basically the main boast of your _wedding vows_ , dumbass.”

“It’s not a shtick,” Blaine says, offended. Santana raises a pointed eyebrow at him. He looks away.

*

The radio is on in the kitchen when Blaine comes home, and that alone makes Blaine feel more confident; their apartment has been lacking in music since that argument.

For a few moments, he’s content to just lean against the kitchen door frame and watch his husband dance as he bakes; the smile that Kurt gives him when he spots him makes the world right.

“Santana thinks we should still talk about our argument,” he says. Kurt’s smile dims, but it doesn’t disappear. Good.

“And you?” he asks airily.

Blaine shrugs his shoulders and smiles. “No.”

Kurt beams at him and abandons the mixing bowl to give Blaine a kiss. When they part, Blaine laughs.

“You’ve been eating the batter,” he grins, and Kurt looks scandalised.

“Such bold accusations, dear husband!”

Before Blaine can get caught up in this – missed – banter, he links his fingers through Kurt’s and pulls them to sit at their tiny, tiny table.

“Although,” he says, “I do think we need to talk about how to make sure that . . . that doesn’t happen again.”

Kurt nods, solemn. “I agree.”

It doesn’t take long. They both cry again, the wounds from their barbs still hurting no matter how much they try to kiss it away, but they come up with ideas and strategies and write them down and put it in a kitchen drawer.

“I love you so much,” Blaine whispers, and then they are, once again, them.

 


	21. Vodka

The bass vibrates beneath their feet and up and into their bones and Blaine can’t stay still, rhythm and alcohol beating with his blood, and he pulls Kurt out to the dance floor by his hands – so large and soft, his eyes bright and multicoloured under the multicoloured, ever-changing lights; the music’s so loud but they don’t need to speak to communicate (the bass is steady as it ripples across the floor - one - two - three - four) — Blaine’s body is liquid and Kurt’s is a hard rock keeping him contained even as he falls apart to the eight - nine - ten beat; sweat sticks his clothes to his skin and his hands slip against Kurt’s neck and their bodies roll together sensual and lyrical and the bass vibrates (four - five - six) and Kurt’s lips taste like salt and lime and vodka, sharp and strong and sweet – the taste of how Kurt’s body feels against and over and over his, the lights flash and the bass and booze mingle in his head and out through his limbs against Kurt’s – and Blaine grins and dances and tastes and follows the bass (one - two - three) until the sky bleeds red.

 


	22. Whisper

At the moment, Dani is lying with her back to Santana, fast asleep, so in case she disturbs her girlfriend she can’t watch any of her Spanish telenovelas, or that trashy modelling show the My Little Ponies got her hooked on.

The same My Little Ponies who are to blame for Santana still being awake right now. She’d been about to drop when an unmistakable gasp had come through the curtain, followed by a completely unhushed moan – she’d made a mental note to give them high fives in the morning – but afterwards they’d started _whispering_ , and it was absolutely sickening. All ‘I love you’ and ‘that was amazing, you’re amazing’ and probably staring into each other’s eyes, and then instead of dirty talk and round two they’d started whispering about their days. And, okay, it was pretty surprising because Blaine sounded like he had a pretty shitty day and Santana didn’t think it was even possible for him to be anything less than ninety percent obnoxious happiness, so maybe she could bring him a muffin after her shift at the diner tomorrow, or something. Kurt will probably be suspicious about it but Blaine is the least suspecting, most friendly person ever, hasn’t really changed from the person who tries to help a bitchy stranger through being outed. Which is nice, probably.

God, Santana is never living with a married couple again, she’s going totally soft, it’s disgusting.

So, yeah, she’ll get Blaine a muffin, but she’s taking all the milk for breakfast. Just to balance it out.

 


	23. Yes

Kurt is used to hearing ‘no’ – hell, he’s used to not even getting that. He was a spoilt child; then he asked God to make his mommy better and she died anyway; then he wished on every star that he wasn’t gay, please, please, please, and then he fell head over heels with Finn; then he decided to hell with it, he was going to stop asking.

*

Blaine was never really told ‘no’; yes, you can take up piano, yes, you can play polo, yes, you can go to that party, yes, you can go to Dalton, yes, you can have whatever car you like, son.

So he was never told ‘no’ out loud, but he sees it every time his mother’s eyes lingered where the scar on his ribs, every time his father looks at him during a sports game.

*

No, the boys say to his boards; yes, says the boy he just met, who takes his hand and pulls him through the halls and serenades him in front of an entire room of peers.

The best part is, several months later, when Kurt finds the courage to ask, Blaine doesn’t say no – he says maybe, and, mere weeks after that, that turns into a _hell_ yes and Kurt ends up late for dinner.

*

When it’s Blaine’s turn to ask, he gathers their friends and family and rivals, and he has a ring.

Of course Kurt says yes.

*

There are many ways to say yes and no – body language, slang, idioms, indirect. But this, they find, is the very best of all:

“I do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it (finally)! All 23 drabbles. If you've left kudos, which drabble was it? If you haven't, which was your favourite drabble anyway? I hope you enjoyed reading these, and, more, I hope you all survived the Christmas season and the season finale. Thank you for reading. :)


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